


The Woods are Lonely, Dark and Deep

by blueberrytoast



Series: Purgatory Collection [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Drabble Collection, Gen, Purgatory, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrytoast/pseuds/blueberrytoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory quin-drabble featuring Dean and Cas, pre season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Friendly Face

The worlds are essentially the same, purgatory only darker and more sinister. The bitter after taste of the putrid air serves as sole divider between what is real and what is afterlife.

In some parts of purgatory where Castiel says the dimensional shift between the here and the real world is weaker, the ground appears burnt and charred by a raging fire. Small bushes and undergrowth are permanently aflame and the smoke is thick. Dean coughs into his elbow and tries to cover up his face as good as he can, Castiel walks through it unaffected.

They've run from a lot of different creatures, many of them shapeless, monstrous and more terrifying than Dean’s most horrifying nightmares. They've grabbled, kicked and punched their way out of mobs of werewolves, wendigos and minor demon spawn. Strangely enough they have yet to meet any familiar faces, until they do that is. 

Lenore was the first friendly face they'd seen since they were trapped. And by “friendly” they really mean “less feral”. There was scarcely any recognition left in her eyes when she appeared out of the growth, only a slight widening as she rushed them with wide open jaws and teeth gleaming wet with saliva in the dull light. 

The worst part is that the inhabitants of purgatory doesn't die when you kill them. They keep going, tearing and biting and pulling until there is nothing left, somehow assembling themselves afterwards, broken limbs and bones moving together to become whole once more and they wake up angrier than when they went down. They learned this first hand after they killed Lenore the second time, but she kept coming back. A pair of gleaming eyes following them for miles.


	2. The Trees have Eyes

The trees are twisted and wild, wilder than what Dean's ever seen before. They eat their way into the landscape, engulfing smaller trees and rock alike. Hungry, always hungry.

He doesn't lean against them any more, not since he felt the cold pulse of angry life at his back, drawing him closer.

Sometimes they stumble upon carvings on the trees depicting unknown gods and faces. Dean get's chills when he sees them, Castiel touches them gently in remembrance like he knows them.

Dean usually have a nagging feeling he's being observed, not by Cas since the guy spends a lot of his time on gazing into the thick of the forest after any stalkers. Apprehension practically crawls up his back, especially when he can't see any gleaming eyes of curious beasts between the trees. He remembers the few times he's leaned against a tree for some momentary support and it started to curl it's branches around his body ever so slightly, and how the trunk practically vibrated with angry life.

Dean's given up on any kind of friendly life form existing in this place. He feels ridiculous, jumping at every shadow. He takes a wide path around an especially gnarly looking tree. It's long branches stretch after him as he passes hurriedly, long finger-like twigs ripping at his jacket and tangling in his hair with sticky tree sap. He curses as a small tuft of hair gets stuck in the glue like sap and is janked out of his scalp as he rips away from the offensive branch. He turns around, rubbing the sore spot, and stares wide eyed as the tree curls the thin twig into itself, bloodied hair with it, and holds it tightly.

A shudder runs down his spine as he thinks of those venus fly trap plants and stumbles away too creeped out to turn around a second time when he hears a low grinding sound of wood against wood. A deep rumbling groan still audible as he hurries his steps to get away.

He feels a short burst of relief only when he sees the fluttering coat on Castiel's back. As he finally catches up with his companion he's surprised at the cold sweat beading on his forehead, shilling his skin and making his teeth clatter.


	3. Misfortune

The moment Dean went missing Castiel felt like his heart was going to wrench itself out of his ribcage.

The gut clenching fear was overpowering and he could already feel the stirrings of intrigued creatures circling him, lured close by the stench of his panic. He forcibly calmed himself, a feat considering Dean was most likely dead if he wasn't with him, and set of in the direction he'd last seen him.

Running swiftly with the coat fluttering behind him he searched silently for hours. Calling would only mark his own position and he couldn't chance Dean giving away his own for more ears than Castiel’s. If Dean against all odds was still alive, he’d most likely be mauled by a nearby creature.

After long hours of constant vigilance his was battling with the urge to continue searching and accepting the most probable outcome. Dean couldn't possibly be alive. He'd failed. He'd failed his charge, his friend. Another broken promise among so many.

He paused glaring at the trees surrounding him, the lack of bird song the lack of sunlight, everything was just another reminder of where he was and he hated it.

Fisting his hands he kept going with jaws clenched tight. Dean would never give up when it comes to Sam. Even when all he could do was endure, keep on going because there was nothing else to do, he’d manage with the same amount of determination as if he’d have to battle through a hoard of demons.

Castiel kept his pace, listening for any kind of familiar sound. When he practically stumbled upon Dean's broken body his breath catched in his throat. A buzzing sound filld his ears as he took in the torn flesh and the blood dripping from deep wounds. His body went numb and cold and he became acutely aware of how the blood of his body drained from his face. He moved forward to gently pull his friend down from the tree trunk he's slumped over, a small gasp had his heart beating hard, blood rushing back to his head making him dizzy as he fumbled with a cold hand along Dean's torn neck, searching for a pulse. A faint fluttering of a heartbeat made his hands tremble as he moved to caress a bloodied cheek.

Dean groaned, eyes blearily blinking at the sound of movement, his whole body tense at the prospect of an attack. 

Quickly Castiel inspected the wounds covering Dean's upper body and with firm grasp of his hand around Dean's shoulder he healed him. 

Dean's eyes flew open in startlement, the sudden rush of energy and relief instantly jump-starting him in adrenaline-mode, letting out a hoarse gasp at the sight of his friend.

”Ssh, I'm here Dean...You're safe,” Castiel's voice breaks in relief.

"Goddamnit Cas," he muttered as he pulled himself up on his own feet, shaking his head he moved to follow Castiel. Silently they left the place drenched in the stench of blood neither of them looking back. 


	4. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emetophobia content warning (content warning for vomiting), body horror content warning

 

They set up camp somewhere close to a pool of putrid water.

The bodies in the water aren't real. They are never real.

Dean's learned that the first time he rushed into a dark lake trying to rescue a small child floating face down. The moment he touched them they exhaled a stinking powdery smoke, like spores or steam and then they fell apart in his hands. Like they were nothing more than rotten capsules of an unknown plant.

Dean had thrown up as the small child had disintegrated in his hands, mouth opening to spew out that smokey substance smelling of rotten eggs and death. He still gags when he thinks of it and how the water was more like oil than regular water, how his feet still hasn't dried and they're starting to smell and he really needs to fix that before they start rotting too.

He forces the thick bile back down his throat. It fucking stinks and Dean's gagged more than once and he still hasn't even started to get used to it, he still automatically breathes through his nose and the foul air keeps making his mouth water in disgust and his stomach to start convulsing.

Castiel is mostly silent, especially now after they'd managed to set up a small area easily protected from the beasts lurking in the shadows. Dean has a feeling Cas' working some kind of mojo, he hasn't seen or heard anything for a while, not after some scaly dog-like creature had taken a nasty bite to his chest. It had bled a ridiculous amount but Cas had been quick with healing hands and they'd run fast and long to get away from the fresh scent of blood. They'd managed to get a fire going despite the moist and wetness and huddled close to let the weak warmth of the small fire warm their hands.

“We need to get going soon Dean,” Castiel murmurs from Deans right, “the sigil won't last for long and it's the strongest obscuring ward I know.” His voice is low and his eyes avoid Dean’s.

“I'm afraid Purgatory itself is working against us, it's eating away at my sigils as we speak and I'm afraid it won't be very long until it starts eating away at my grace.”

Dean sighs and drags dirty fingers through his equally dirty hair, “you've got to stop with the whole restoring thing you've been doing to me. We'll find some sort of food and I could use a few hours of sleep every now and then.”

Even if the forest area is filled with stinky marches none of the water is drinkable.

Dean frequently curses his thirst, it's the only reaction Castiel hasn't managed to relieve him of with a clasp of his hand on his shoulder.

Castiel gives Dean an impossibly soft look when he turns towards him, “keeping your blood filled with nutrients doesn't take much effort, though letting you sleep every now and then would be beneficial, if we could find a closed off cave or crevice.”

They bump shoulders in companionable silence, waiting for a dawn which would never come.


	5. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The forest isn't endless and they somehow reach a rocky landscape, devoid of any plant life taller than the wilted grass. The wind is colder out there and mountains emerges from the fog like deformed carcasses, cold and empty of life.

The constant exposure to the wind is slowly driving Dean mad. Nothing is right and everything feels wrong in this place, illusions pop up here and there and he's never been this thankful of the mere presence of Cas. Without him dispelling the illusions every now and then with an “it's not water Dean” he would have fallen off a cliff by now. He shudders as he thinks of the deep chasms which had suddenly appeared where it once had been a small pond of crystal clear water. He shrugs in discomfort and Castiel automatically steps a little closer.

When they find water it's yet again undrinkable. The stench of sulphur is overwhelming and Dean can see steam rising from the surface. Angrily he clenches his fists, cursing the place internally. A quick clasp of Cas' hand on his shoulder has him instantly rejuvenated, though the feeling of thirst lingers on and he swallows dry gulps of sticky saliva. They move on.

The sky is endlessly overcast. No rain or sunshine seeps through the thick ceiling of grey clouds. Sometimes they hear far off thunder cracking and rumbling from a distance. They see no lightning however, only darkness.

Castiel is wary of the obvious human contraptions they find. They usually mean another one of Dean's thoughts and expectations has manifested into an illusion. He reaches out to stop Dean from pulling the rope attached to a small boat resting against the shore of a still lake.

“Wait,” he says and pulls on Dean's coat. He bends down and picks up a small rock and throws it. There's no splash, no thudd of rock hitting wood. Only silence. Not even any ripples on the water can be seen.

Dean looks questioningly at Castiel, eyes slightly wider than usual. “Illusion?” he asks rubbing at his mouth.

He keeps forgetting, something which makes Castiel’s gut clench in discomfort. He nods back and they turn away from the shore. The boat bobs silently on the calm lake.

“I won't let you forget Dean,” he murmurs mouth close to Dean’s ear. They never speak above a whisper, afraid of drawing attention of whatever might be following them.

As often as he can Castiel scouts ahead, searching for some kind of nook or cranny where they can find shelter either from hunting beasts or the strange acidic down-pour which make Dean break out in watery sores. They never stay long at any place, constantly moving through every kind of landscape there is. All of them strangely empty with Castiel's wards in effect.

He is still hoping to find fresh water and he spends most of his scouting time looking for it. Even if he can rejuvenate Dean with a touch of his hand he still feels thirst, his disappointment is obvious every time Castiel returns with an increasingly frustrated “Not this time either.”

He can tell Dean’s frustrated, he can only imagine the feeling of helplessness and hapless powerlessness in his humanity, even if he's the most remarkable human Castiel's ever known. He keeps looking, searching tirelessly for just a hand full of water if not less, to relieve this one human of his thirst. Staying alive is steadily becoming second nature, knowing there's no relief in death.


End file.
